


A Forget-Me-Not in the Fork in the Road

by asimbelmyne



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Angst and Feels, Class Differences, Desire, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, F/M, Language of Flowers, Lust, Lust at First Sight, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Singing, Smut, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-11 06:39:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13518627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asimbelmyne/pseuds/asimbelmyne
Summary: He'd wait at the fork in the road almost everyday, tethering his horse to an old apple tree beyond the fence row, biding his time until he'd catch a glimpse of her hair in the distance, the swish of her pale dress, or the dying echo of her voice on the breeze, taunting his ears. She didn't expect anything less.





	1. Alone

**Author's Note:**

> For SilverNyte, who wondered when I'd try my hand at something lengthier. This is my first attempt at a multi-chaptered story in a very, very long time. It won't be terribly long because I lack the patience required for such things, but my fondness for Reylo should keep me going. I'd like to thank everyone for giving me the courage to continue writing! The support I've received has been wonderful, and I appreciate it more than any of you will ever know. Thank you for embarking on this journey with me. I hope that you'll love it as much as I will!

_"We hunger in earnest for that which we cannot consume."_

_― Nenia Campbell_

* * *

Few people could boast of having heard Rey sing, and she was desperate to keep it that way. Her voice was soft and lilting, taking flight like a bird in search of the sky, ascending beyond sight until her body felt as empty as a cage. She sang for herself, crafting stories out of thin air, allowing each phrase to slip from her tongue like honey, thick with a sweetness so enthralling she often felt compelled to carry on out of sheer delight. Hoarse from overuse, she'd trip over her melodies, bypassing barbed notes as though they were nothing more than pebbles, musical obstacles that required little consideration. Rey's voice had become her constant companion, a tool she'd utilize as often as possible in the company of her own ears, imagining a life for herself she'd never lead. Her world had never been anything but grey, a kaleidoscope of subdued tones that reminded her of Plutt's steely eyes and pert lips, his voice a listless rumble in the cacophony of his cotton mill, drowning out every strained syllable he'd scream at her. His words had always been meaningless, floating in the space above her head like snow, hungry for something other than harsh words, bruised hands, and bloody lips, spilling across her shoulders in an attempt to linger there, weighing her down. Plutt embodied everything Rey hadn't been able to achieve on her own. She had been working for him for as long as she could remember, and it had begun to show.

He had never been a considerate man, callous where he should have been empathetic, abusing the lives of those he'd taken under his wing for the sake of a few more bucks. Many had fallen ill in the time she had spent there, lungs full of cotton, hearts full of sorrow, and faces the colour of ash, greyer than Plutt's standards. Rey sang in spite of it all. She sang to muffle the sounds of their suffering, Plutt's uninspired cruelty, and the ache that had found its way into her heart, quelling her voice and everything she'd woven into it. She didn't know how to move beyond his blissful ignorance without ruining herself in the process. She hated his heartlessness, how he lived according to his own set of rules, ignoring his responsibilities as an administrator under the assumption that he'd risen above them, a king in his own right, presiding over a world as white as the cotton he coveted so much. Rey's hatred for him burned hotter than any flame she'd managed to kindle on her own, yet she hated herself for having to rely on him. Plutt had never made much of an effort to disguise his satisfaction with her displeasure, and she hated him all the more for it. He had spent hours sabotaging her work in the name of pride, taking advantage of everything she'd accomplished in an effort to line his pockets with silver she'd never see. She had spent most of her life handling a workload too large for one person alone, a brand Plutt had intentionally seared across her skin, embodying everything he felt she owed to him. Rey belonged to Plutt, but in name only. He had yet to take away her voice.

Rey paused, leaning down to pluck a flower from its place in the middle of the road, defying all odds in its determination to survive. She understood its resilience more than she cared to admit. The flower was blue, a forget-me-not that seemed too small inside of her hand, curling in on itself in an attempt to whither away. She brought it up to her eyes, sad that she had stunted its growth, yet happy that life continued to persist in the face of adversity, mirroring everything she had been forced to experience on Plutt's behalf. With nimble fingers, Rey tucked the flower into her hair, securing it in place as carefully as she could manage without some sort of ribbon, hoping that it wouldn't slip and fall away before she could enjoy it. Pretty things had a habit of dying on her.

Rey looked up when she was finished, almost resigned, making her way towards a fork in the road a few yards ahead. She had grown to hate that fork more than Plutt, more than cotton, and more than anything else she had come to associate with him. Few people could boast of having heard her sing, but Benjamin Solo was not one of them. He had caught her in the act more than once, determined to hear her voice again, but she refused to entertain his desires out of sheer indignation alone. He was aristocratic and wealthy, the nephew of Luke Skywalker and the son of Lady Organa, a family rich in land and in name. He had decided to neglect his familial pursuits in an effort to pave his own way in life, allowing the weight of his ambition to take hold of almost everything he had once held dear. He was cold and entitled, lonely for a man who had often boasted of his connections in the company of better people, yet relatable in a way she was reluctant to acknowledge. She hated his eyes in particular. They were a deep brown in colour, the sheen of wet leaves in autumn after it had rained, saturated with feelings he refused to voice in the presence of anyone but himself. He thought her presumptuous, she was sure, but their acquaintance continued to persevere, strengthening over time like a fine wine, giving her small glimpses into the soul of the man he had hidden away. He should have known better, but he didn't seem to care a great deal about class. He'd wait at the fork in the road almost everyday, tethering his horse to an old apple tree beyond the fence row, biding his time until he'd catch a glimpse of her hair in the distance, the swish of her pale dress, or the dying echo of her voice on the breeze, taunting his ears. She didn't expect anything less.

She rounded the corner and there he was, leaning against the fence row, apple in hand. He had taken a bite out of it and was chewing thoughtfully, maintaining eye contact until she began to feel uncomfortable. He liked the fire in her eyes, how she'd straiten like a bowstring under his gaze, refusing to look away until his hold on her had vanished. She hated the severity of it, ignoring the magnitude of his presence in favour of other things, like the apple in his hand or the way her dress felt against her skin, scratchy and hot in afternoon sun, sticking to her legs instead of falling strait. It was a game she had never taken joy in, yet she continued to participate out of necessity rather than obligation, waiting for the day he'd finally let her walk home in peace. She took another step forward, ignoring how his eyes flitted across her face in curiosity, trailing down her neck, into the folds of her hair, and across the curves of her body. His eyes lingered in places they had no right to, but she had grown accustomed to his impropriety, especially in moments like this. When they were alone, living beyond the boundaries their social class had made between them, they had never been anything but themselves. He was impish and she was impassioned, arguing until her throat had gone dry, unafraid to voice her opinions in the presence of a man she considered beneath her notice. He must have thought her crazy at some point, but he had never brought it up. They were similar in some ways, yet completely different in others. He continued to linger and she continued to show up at the fork in the road without fail. She didn't want to know why.

"You've forgotten something," he told her, taking another bite out of his apple.

Rey narrowed her eyes, folding her fingers into the fabric of her dress in an attempt to stifle the scream making its way up her throat. The juice from his apple dribbled down his chin and he wiped it away with his other hand, watching the way her nose scrunched up in distaste, an obvious indicator of her feelings towards him.

"Ah, yes. I should have turned left instead of right," she said, ignoring how his eyes seemed to light up in amusement. "You're such a gentleman."

"That's a little harsh, even for you."

"Honesty hurts," she said, frowning as he tossed his apple into the bushes.

He turned around to face her, reaching out to touch her cheek, hooking his fingers under her chin so that he could look into her eyes. Her pupils widened in distress, mimicking her state of mind. She had never been this close to him before. His eyes were darker than she had originally thought, glinting in the space between them like a lacquer, the tint of soil, bark, and gravel after a rainstorm, rough, callous, and coarse. He continued to look at her until she had turned a different colour beneath his hands, flushing a dusky red in the afternoon light, staining the skin below his fingers like an apple, one he hadn't thrown away just yet. He looked resigned, stoic when he should have been rude, content to simply stare into her eyes instead of resuming their feud, memorizing every line and curve for his own perverse purposes. She wished he'd move away, remembering their roles in life and how inappropriate he had become in the span of a few minutes, ignoring every rule decorum had drilled into his brain. He had always been insistent, demanding her attention more than once in their shared history, but this was different. For the first time since meeting him, she was afraid of what he could do. He'd never hurt her, but the weight of his fingers on her skin spoke of a desire so restrained she could barely breathe without choking, meeting his eyes in silent admonition, praying he'd see reason.

"Since we're being honest, I sometimes wonder how much it would take to break you," he said, running his fingers along the length of her jaw, curling a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "I don't know whether you're brave or stupid half the time, but you're something else."

His fingers brushed against the shell of her ear and she cringed, trying to ignore how she felt as he threaded his fingers through her hair. He smelled as sweet as the apple he had tossed away, a strange contrast that made her shiver in anticipation, wishing he'd relinquish his hold on her yet again. They were always coming together like this, drawn to one another like gravity, waiting for the inevitable collide. The way he touched her had become dangerous. She watched with bated breath as he leaned in a little closer, carding his fingers through her hair until he found the forget-me-not she'd placed in there earlier, shifting his hands so that he was holding it in front of her face, inches from her mouth. The amusement in his eyes was a palpable thing. She could feel it in the space he'd made between them, brushing against her skin as fervently as his breath, bombarding her with an onslaught of anger she could barely contain. He had the audacity to smile in response. The sight of it took her breath away.

"You owe me a song," he said, twirling the flower between his thumb and forefinger, refusing to break eye contact. "You keep forgetting."

Her mouth fell open and he laughed, tucking the flower behind his own ear in mockery of its previous location.

"My voice is of little concern to you," she stated coldly, reaching out to retrieve what he'd so rudely taken, but he grabbed her wrist in retaliation, hard enough to elicit a gasp, but loose enough to cause little pain.

"I expect no less from you at this point, but one day you'll crack. You know as well as I do that I  _always_  get what I want. You're no different."

"Ha! I'll never belong to you, or to anyone for that matter. I'm beyond your reach."

"Tell that to Unkar Plutt," he said, gripping her wrist a little tighter.

A part of her heart seemed to freeze in her chest, chilling her to the bone. His position in life had given him a great deal of power over others, requiring little effort on his part, but he had gone too far this time, crossing the line she'd made between them so long ago. Plutt saw value in almost everything. She had lived according to his rules for most of her life, acting under the assumption that she'd always return to his white world, a world where machinery mirrored her place in life. Ben was offering her freedom, freedom in the guise of a gilded cage. To forego one form of slavery in exchange for another was cruel, and she hated him for it. A life at his side would require too much sacrifice, destroying everything she had fought for in the span of a heartbeat, spoiling her sense of self. His reasons for wanting her were entirely selfish, yet not unwarranted. He had found something in her that he had lost within himself, something he craved for, and something she'd never completely understand. His feelings for her were complicated, bursting from behind his eyes like a forest fire, hot, intense, and scalding, but not as shallow as he had lead her to believe. He wore his anger like a mask, hiding behind false pretences in an attempt to distance himself from how he really felt, pretending that she was an object instead of a person out of shame, out of guilt, and out of frustration. They had spent so much time with one another that he could hardly say otherwise. He didn't care about her voice, as lovely as it was. He had wanted her and only her from the very start and she knew exactly why.

"You need to leave," she said, trying to tug her wrist from his grasp.

He released his hold on her, slipping the forget-me-not into the front of her dress as slowly as possible, gauging her reaction. His fingers strayed over her bodice hesitantly, as if he were afraid of what he could do if she'd let him, but he moved away instead, reaching for the reins of his horse. He pulled himself onto his saddle and began to ride away, leaving her standing beside the apple tree like a druid, frozen in place. His eyes continued to torment her long after he had gone, a dark smudge beyond the fork in the road that had started it all, ruining any hope of remaining true to the people they had been before their encounter. He had changed her.

Rey's hand shook as she grasped the flower like a lifeline, nearly crushing it.

Somehow she'd endure.


	2. Rain, in Your Black Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going down a path I didn't think that it would take. Kylo is clearly a huge ass in my story, and believe me, Rey isn't going to handle his bullshit without giving a little in return. It would go against her character to do otherwise. I don't know if I'll change the rating, and I don't know how things are going to progress. Regardless, I'm having quite a lot of fun in the meantime! This is definitely out of my comfort zone.

_"_ _Please, touch me, I pray."_

_― Jess C. Scott_

* * *

Rey's hatred for Plutt had grown in the span of a few moments, curling around her heart, preventing any form of rationality from finding its way in. Her capacity for forgiveness had always outweighed her distaste of cruelty, but he had forced her hand. His behaviour had become intolerable, rivalling the look in Ben's eyes when she had questioned the reality of their acquaintance for the first time, defying every rule she had been taught out of contempt for his stature in life. She wanted to scream at him for being so unreasonable, but Plutt wore his conceit like a badge, acting under the assumption that he had lived long enough to do so, allowing the look on his face to vocalize everything she knew him to be feeling. Her anger was irrational, bursting from beneath her skin like an explosion, one she could no longer repress without becoming a flaming mess herself. Plutt had done enough to warrant her anger. He stood several feet away on purpose, occupying the entrance to his mill like a stone sentinel, preventing her from getting in. His height was imposing, but not enough to deter her wrath. She should have known he'd resort to something like this after Ben's candid slip up, but Rey refused to acknowledge how serious he'd been in the face of her captivity, gripping her wrist as tightly as a noose, fearing the inevitable. Ben's hunger for ambition had always been particularly unnerving, but she didn't think he'd ever go out of his way to consume her too. His family hadn't made much of an effort to conceal his true nature. He was a ghost, a name whispered in warning, and a shadow instead of a person. She should have turned on her heel the moment he had appeared in her life.

Plutt nearly smiled in light of her fury, but his face was too withered to display any emotion other than annoyance, as if she were nothing more than a speck of dirt trapped in the sole his shoe, entirely undeserving of his notice. Rey wanted to punch him in the face, demanding he let her stay in an attempt to salvage what remained of her life, but she knew he'd rather die than be humiliated by a woman her size, a woman with nowhere else to go. Her plight in life was crippling. Ben's face appeared in her mind like a mirage, a fictitious delusion that continued to infiltrate her thoughts no matter how hard she fought against it, destroying everything she had worked so hard to achieve on her own. The memory of his stare was unwelcome, a constant reminder of his selfishness, the feverish glint that had seeped into his eyes upon seeing her, and his pride. Plutt's expression confirmed Ben's involvement in their standoff, snapping the redundancy of her life, something she had grown to rely upon. Without the added benefit of belonging to someone, she was nothing but a woman, alone in the world.

"You can't do this," Rey said, seething with rage.

Plutt merely laughed, folding his arms across his chest in a display of pure disregard. "I already have! I can't say that it's been fun, but you don't concern me anymore."

"Did he put you up to this?" she demanded, barreling headlong into his space. "How much did he pay you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're lying!"

"Says who?" Plutt hissed, gipping her chin hard enough to cause pain. "A nobody? Don't fool yourself into thinking I give a shit. You're a pain in my ass, just as pathetic as everyone else in this godforsaken hellhole. You've overstayed your welcome."

Rey flinched, swatting his hand away in disgust. His eyes were alight with something she refused to name, glittering in the space between them like a black hole, bordering on regret. She had always done what he had asked of her. She had been a valuable asset to his industry, willing to work long hours with little pay, possessing little wealth in life. If she left, someone else would take her place. She was expendable, another cog in Plutt's clockwork, a piece of a puzzle so large, few had ever seen it in its entirety. The anger she had been harbouring for Ben flared anew. He would never understand her role in life because he had never experienced it for himself. They'd always be at an impasse, close enough to peer into one another's lives without actively taking part, dipping their toes into a surface so opaque, they could hardly fathom what lay beneath. Rey liked to imagine Ben's existence as being somewhat boring, composed of activities she'd often make fun of, activities she'd never end up doing herself. His ideas about her responsibilities in life were clearly unrealistic. Plutt's hand strayed near her face and she eyed it warily, waiting for the inevitable collide.

"He's ruined you," he told her softly, and for once, she looked up at him in surprise.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, but he merely laughed.

"Look who's the liar now?"

* * *

Rey stumbled around the bend, lifting the hem of her dress well above her ankles. Her confrontation with Plutt had ended badly. He had never been particularly considerate as a person, but his final words continued their assault long after she had left him alone, bothering her far more than she was willing to admit. Ben lived in a place beyond the restrictions her status in life had forced upon her, a place where he could do whatever he liked without consequence. His decisions had often been fickle in nature, indicating how little he cared about other people in light of his own problems, but his neglect, his lack of empathy for her situation in life, contradicted everything she thought she had known about him. He was capable of feeling things beyond selfishness, beyond the impenetrable cage he had trapped himself in, yet his desire to have her usurped everything else. Rey could see it in his face, how he had hidden himself in the bushes on purpose, blending into the foliage like the apples he enjoyed eating so much. He smiled upon seeing her, pleased that he had caught her in such an awkward situation. Every time she took a step in his direction, he'd catch a glimpse of her hair tumbling down her back, free from its intricate prison, coiling around the base of her neck and into the plunge of her bodice. Rey was aware of how she appeared to him. She looked desirable, wet from walking around in the rain, flushed red from anger, and completely furious, forgoing decorum in a vain attempt to keep her dress from getting muddy. He had ruined her life.

"You're a monster," she hissed, speaking loudly enough for him to hear. "You know exactly what you've done to me!"

"Ignorance is bliss. I thought you had realized that by now."

"What do you take me for? An idiot? Our relationship is far from being socially acceptable and I refuse to pretend otherwise!"

A frown appeared on his face, but it didn't linger there for very long. He stepped out from beneath the tree, close enough to count the freckles spattered across the bridge of her nose, joining her in the rain. There was something off about him and she couldn't quite put a name to it. The smile she had seen earlier felt like a ruse, put in place to honor the very pretences they had grown to rely upon so much, a ruse she hated more than his expressive eyes. Rey knew that Ben had closed himself off from everyone else, retreating somewhere deep inside of his own head in an act of self preservation, protecting what remained of his heart. While his mouth said very little about how he really felt, his eyes didn't lie. His displeasure with her words had become obvious, emanating from behind his gaze like an inferno, a searing accusation that rivalled the anger he had kindled inside of her soul. The look in his eyes bothered her, and she hated it. He deserved to feel degraded, forced to acknowledge the severity of his actions and their impact on her life, mirroring everything he had made her feel. His selfishness spoke louder than anything he'd ever say out loud.

"I saved you," he said darkly, clenching the fabric of his pants between his fingers. "I saved you from a life of needless suffering, a life you clearly didn't want."

"You destroyed everything that made me a person, Ben!"

His dark hair fell between his eyes, exaggerating the anger that burned from within, growing larger and larger like a seed in its infancy. His fury had been a thing of legend, a weapon of mass destruction few experienced without crumbling a little in the process. Rey knew what he could do to her if he so desired, but she didn't care. Her life had been difficult. His anger was as transitory as ripple, a stream she'd easily cross if things got out of hand.

"Don't give Plutt too much credit," he said, looming over her. "You were a person long before he forced you to work for him."

"What would you have me do then? Work for you?"

"I'd have you right where you are, beside me. That's all I've ever wanted."

Rey sighed in defeat, brushing his hair away from his eyes. He leaned into her warmth, kissing the inside of her palm. The sensation of his mouth stifled her anger. She allowed her hand to slip across his jaw, sinking her fingers into his dark hair, moving close enough to feel his heat. Her fears had come true. He'd never say it out right, but he didn't need to, not to her. His feelings were as obvious as the colour of his eyes, dark, alluring, and hot, coiling around her heart like a noose. His mask had slipped, but he was too enamoured with her to slide it back into place. Their acquaintance endured because he had never seen her as anything but his equal. He enjoyed hearing her stories and opinions, admiring the sound of her voice alongside his own, free from everything they had been born into. He was completely and utterly himself when they were together, and she didn't hate him for it. She disliked his penchant for cruelty, his vivacity for life, and how he continued to act as though the entire world were his to control and his to preside over, ignoring the rules that dictated their lives and what they were supposed to do with them. She refused to adhere to his warped perception of who they could become in light of what they already were. Her grip on his hair tightened, but his discomfort was lost in favour of her own thoughts.

"You live in a world so detached from mine, that it would be shameful to debase yourself just to be with me. Is that what you want?"

He leaned forward, pressing his mouth against hers so lightly she could barely feel it, but the intent behind his kiss spoke volumes. "Yes," he said, folding his hands into the curve of her spine. "I'll drag you down with me if I have to."

"I won't go easily," she said, trying to pull away, but his fingers were insistent, rooting her to the ground.

"I don't expect you to."

"Then why bother?" she asked, but his mouth had found the curve of her jaw.

Her grip tightened once again, enough to elicit a pained groan from his lips, but he didn't seem to care. He continued to wander, mapping out the column of her throat with his tongue. She wanted to pull away, abandoning his touch and the warmth that came with it, but she couldn't deny her feelings. To do so would be hypocritical, ignoring everything she had seen in him and in herself, and she didn't think he'd forgive her for that. He knew her far better than she would have liked. Every time his lips found her skin, her inhibitions began to fade away, bleeding into the background until his mouth, hands, and body took precedence over everything else. He was unraveling her, pulling at her seams, leaving her naked and vulnerable beneath his hands, trapped like a deer in headlights. His fingers found the spaces between her ribs, trailing up the length of her body, coercing a sound from her throat he hadn't heard in weeks. She arched into him, gripping his hair so hard he swore out loud. His kisses tasted like rain, open-mouthed and sloppy, stifling her anger entirely. The urge to run filled her to the brim.

"You owe me a song, remember?" he told her, digging his fingers into her hips.

The look on his face was shameless, but his eyes were sincere.


	3. Augenblick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, folks! I knew that this story would be short, but I didn't think that it would end on such a sad note. I've never written anything so scandalous in my entire life! When I think of Kylo Ren and Rey, I'm reminded of thunderstorms, hot nights in the middle of August, and a lot of rain. Storms have the potential to be very beautiful, but their capacity to evolve into something far more threatening is very, very real. I hope that I've managed to depict that to some degree. I'd like to thank everyone for tagging along on this journey with me! It's been a lot of fun.
> 
> Playlist: My chapters are named after the songs I tend to listen to when I'm writing. If you're interested, please give them a listen. The first song is "Alone," by James Spiteri, the second is "Rain, in your Black Eyes," by Ezio Bosso, and the third is "Augenblick," by Dirk Maassen. They're all very beautiful, uplifting, and kind of melancholy in nature, but I absolutely adore them.
> 
> *I like to edit as I go, and if I'm not entirely satisfied with something I've written, I usually go back and alter it. I thought I'd give everyone a head's up!

_"Do not allow me to forget you"_

_― Gabriel García Márquez_

* * *

Rey emerged from sleep wearing nothing but Ben's long sleeve, entangled in his arms. The air was humid and wet, forcing her hair into soft curls, cascading down her back, over the knobs of her spine, and across his bare chest like fingers, coiling around every bit of exposed skin until they had become insnared in one another. He looked different to her like this, laid bare before her, comfortable in his own skin. He had always been overzealous, holding himself higher than what she considered appropriate, but his bravado had never felt sincere to her, the mask of a man who had grown to fear his own capacity to feel. She should have been angry with him, ashamed of what they had done in the aftermath of his actions and in the wake of her fury, forgoing common decency in favour of mutual desire, yet she couldn't find it in herself to care. She had finally experienced his potential for goodness. The weight of his hands on her body had exposed the mechanics of his soul, freeing every small and fragile piece from the depths of his heart, relinquishing his hold under the assumption that she'd somehow save him from himself. Ben was a beautiful mess, a mess held together by skin, sinew, and bone, lying naked in the grass beside her. Rey reached out in the gathering darkness, brushing the tips of her fingers across his mouth.

His breath was hot against her skin, moving in tandem with her pulse, yet his eyes were dark, open, and pensive, burning between their bodies like a question. She had known from the very beginning that he'd find a way to destroy her, sinking his fingers into her thoughts until she could think of little else. Her hands slipped into his hair and he smiled against her skin, pressing a kiss into the hollow of her throat, between her breasts, and above her navel, drawing her knee up and over his shoulder. She tried to memorize the look in his eyes as his mouth brushed against her center, how his irises flashed like bits of amber in the space between her thighs, stoking the fire that burned beneath his lips. She wanted to remember this version of him in her quiet moments, after she had abandoned him to live out the remainder of his life alone, the way that it was supposed to be between them. His name left her mouth in an anguished cry, coiling around her throat like a noose, embodying everything she refused to say out loud. Her anger had evolved into something else. She wished she could tell him how much she'd miss his lips and the sentences he had constructed with them, how his eyes hadn't always incited so much anger within her, or how she had grown to love everything she had once hated about him. He had ruined her life and would continue to do so, but she would allow him this one transgression in light of her own selfishness, hoping he'd find it in himself to endure as she once had, finally embracing his role in society.

He looked up at her, brushing the tips of his fingers across her clitoris, coercing another cry from her mouth. The smile on his face filled her with a warmth so intense she could hardly refrain from blurting out his name. She arched into him, pulling hard on his hair, too invested in her own pleasure to notice the way he had kissed her inner thigh, trailing his hand up and over the curve of her hip, holding her steady beneath him. She wanted to touch him, hoping he'd come close enough to press his mouth against her own, slipping himself inside of her, allowing the weight of his body to surround her in its entirety. There were so many things she wanted to remember about him, so many small and specific details she knew she'd end up missing in the aftermath of his clever fingers. The width of his hands, the sound of his breath, and the shape of his mouth would fade from her memory, disjointed pieces that would seep from her mind like the dregs of a weak tea, too discoloured to display how vibrant he had been in person. If they had been different people, meeting one another under circumstances far more appropriate that their current rendezvous beneath the apple tree, she would have succumbed to her feelings without being afraid of their repercussions. He belonged to her in name only, nothing more than a transient moment in time, an evening of pleasure, sweat, and shared skin that would haunt her for the rest of her life. The gentle sway of his fingers had become an unwelcome reminder of his naivety, pushing her over the edge until she was falling from it, clenching around him.

Ben leaned forward, burying himself inside of her. The sound of her climax was as loud as the thunder clap rolling down the road to meet them.

* * *

Rey slipped her dress overhead as quickly as she could manage in her current state of mind, forgoing its laces in an attempt to waste as little time as possible. Ben's ministrations had left her sore and bruised, aching on the inside as insistently as a drum, something she had taken a great deal of pleasure in. She wanted to stay with him, allowing herself to sink into his arms, into his warmth, and into his body until the sun had shown its face, but he had forced her hand. She couldn't find it in herself to ignore what he had done, pretending that simply being in his presence would stifle their descent into notoriety, content to live in the afterglow of their ignorance for the rest of their lives. She had never been that naive. Her life had been governed by many men, but none had pursued her heart as keenly as Ben had. If it were possible to regain what he had taken from her, she would have fought a little harder to get it back, stealing something from him in return. He had given his heart to her willingly, placing it somewhere behind her ribcage, behind the remnants of her own aching heart and into the depths of her soul, hoping that it would vanish from sight. She wasn't sure if there was anything left inside of him worth stealing anymore. She glanced over in his direction, trying to understand his thoughts, thoughts she had seen when he had been fully sheathed inside of her, burning brighter than anything she had ever seen in her life. He had made himself out to be such a crude and insensitive man, yet he was far from being that person, embodying the characteristics of someone so damaged, so completely altered from their course in life, that his penchant for self-preservation had supplanted everything else.

Rey reached for him as the sun began to spill over the horizon line, placing the palm of her hand beside his head, threading her fingers through the fabric of his long sleeve. She bent down, kissing the corner of his mouth in a silent and final goodbye, trying her best to remember exactly how his lips felt against her own, how his nose brushed against the curve of her cheek when they touched like this, and how his eyelashes fluttered in sleep, shielding the anger she knew he'd be feeling if he woke up to see her on the cusp of fleeing from him. She pulled away before her determination faltered in the face of his serenity, holding back an onslaught of tears, reaching for his pants. He had always been a man of many means. He disliked going anywhere without some sort of plan, prepared to prove his worth at a moment's notice, filling his pockets with enough cash to support his endeavours if the need to do so ever arose. She wouldn't have known this if he hadn't boasted of it once, leaning against the fence post on a day devoid of rain, before she had grown to love him, before he had kissed her, and before they had made love, arm to arm and hip to hip like teenagers, foolish and filled with pride. Rey withdrew each note carefully, stowing them down the front of her dress and into the soles of her shoes as artlessly as a street performer, chewing on her lip to prevent herself from crying out loud. He had given her freedom, but at the expense of his own.

"I'm sorry, Ben," she whispered, kneeling down to pluck another forget-me-not from its place in the earth. She rolled it between her fingers, tucking the flower into Ben's hair, securing it in place as carefully as she could manage without waking him up. "Life isn't a fairy tale."

Rey's fingers trailed past his temple, sweeping over the line of his jaw and across the stubble spattered along its edge. She'd miss his face more than anything else. His eyes would continue to haunt her for as long as she lived, tainting everything they had done together like blood, staining her memories until nothing remained but the colour red, an accusation she'd never properly address. He'd want it that way, but the frustration she'd normally feel upon experiencing such a thing was gone, replaced with a sense of loss so profound, she nearly doubled over in pain. She withdrew her hand from his face in retaliation, branding his features into the forefront of her mind. He'd live in her memories, becoming the ghost everyone but her had known him to be, an echo embodying the vestiges of a different time, a different place, and a different man. She tried to remind herself of this as she walked away from him, moving beyond the fork in the road and everything it had come to represent, grasping the laces of her bodice in a feeble attempt to forget how he had undone them the night before. Her mouth fell open, but nothing came out.

Her voice had become as empty as her heart.


End file.
